We move by instinct, darlingLet our hands be hatchets, let usWander blindly, swinging madlyIn a forest made of flesh.We move by instinct, darlingLet our eyes like lepers driveThe doubters from our homes andInto the bottom of the sea.And we speak in signals, darlingLet our smoke stitch pictures, let usTwist in patterns, dull the horrorOf a city still on fire. ForWe are like medics handlingSuicide by cyanide with bleedingFingers. Let us sufferCompletely inadequate.And we move like lovers, loverLet me run my fingers down your sideAnd kiss you right below the eye.We sleep with shadows butWe never give them bread.Horror, dress yourself in shameOr I will tear a hole in you, you harlot.Burn your eyes, (I will hold yourWhite-washed bones unto the sky andScream "oh god, if you are there,I hold this body to your judgment--Give it your wrath or your mercy.But please pick wrath. ")